Feb. 10, 2003 - 3:31 p.m.
It's my funeral, what do you mean you aren't coming?
Damn it! You're such a pain in my ass. How often do I invite you to a funeral? Wait, not just any funeral either, but MINE!
We're suppose to be friends.
Fine, there's going to be loads of freaks there and probably quite a few young, nubile, easily influenced, pretty girls there for you to munch on.
It is not an odd thing to do. OK, well maybe it's a little odd, but a girl's entitled to a mid-life crisis every few months.
And this is the BIG ONE, you know. And I don't want to celebrate it, but I'll be damned if I let an opportunity for a party to pass by. So, it only makes sense to give my youth a fitting farewell, don'tcha think?
I'm not morbid. I'm not going to be in a casket or anything. I'm just taking all the things I can't fit in anymore and burning them. I'll keep the ashes in an appropriate urn.
I've always wanted to see who would show up for my funeral anyway. This is a great opportunity. I get to participate this way. It would just suck to be dead at my own funeral. That would certainly put a crimp in my alcohol consumption, and we all know the funeral parlor's makeup artist is severely lacking in talent.
Come on, it'll be fun. You can watch everyone smolder. I'm making them all wear black in the middle of summer. Hehehe
Good then, you're coming. You should really get to work on the eulogy. And none of this...She whined a lot. She's dead. Let's drink.
